Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Ashreichem Yisroel

by Rabbi
Pinchos Lipschutz

It is hard for us to
imagine the way our people were feeling at the middle of the last century. The
Holocaust had thankfully ended and survivors were desperately trying to put
their lives back together. Mourning, beaten, bloodied and broken, they didn’t
know if it would ever be possible to find strength and succor to cope with the
challenges facing them, strangers in new lands.

People looked for rays of
hope. One of them was to find a newly published sefer. Every time a sefer
was published - an infrequent occurrence - it was seen as a shot in the arm,
offering an injection of chizuk to beleaguered bnei Torah inEretz
Yisroel, Europe and America.

One sefer that stood
out at the time was titled Avi Ezri. In 1948, it was seen as a statement
that the excellence brought on by extreme devotion to Torah of the pre-war yeshivos
was still alive. It demonstrated that survivors could create chiddushei
Torah that would give meaning to this strange new world. Copies of the new sefer
were eagerly passed around the halls of yeshivos, each page serving
as resounding testimony to the eternity of the nation and Torah.

Eventually, a copy reached
America, where it was greeted with similar excitement. In the newly
re-established Mirrer Yeshiva, some European immigrants recognized the name of
the author, Rav Leizer Shach, familiar to them from before the war. The yeshiva’s
mashgiach, Rav Yechezkel Levenstein, noticed the buzz in the yeshiva
and referred to it in a shmuess.

“You are all amazed by the ge’onus
of the sefer,” the mashgiach said, “but I remember that the mechaber
was known as the baal chessed of Kletzk. He was the most compassionate,
caring, hartzige Yid in the yeshiva.”

A talmid recalled
his impression of that shmuess. “The mashgiach wanted us to
understand the koach of Torah. Hesaw how enthralled we
were by the sefer - one of the first of its kind to be released after
the destruction - and he used the opportunity to hammer home to us theeffectsof Torah, how that kind of d’veykus in Torah creates a
different sort of person.”

That, in essence, is the
message of these days, connecting the avodas hamiddos of Sefirah and
preparation for Kabbolas HaTorah. Someone who derives chiyus from
Torah becomes elevated and refined, and his behavior reflects that, as the Rambam
makes clear in his description of how a talmid chochom conducts himself
(Hilchos Dei’os, perek 5).

We are approaching what is
commonly viewed as the mid-point of the Sefirah period, Lag Ba’omer,
a day whose meaning is layered with mystical secrets. The Arizal says
that Lag Ba’omer is a manifestation of the posuk in Bereishis
(31) wherein Lovon said to Yaakov Avinu, “Eid hagal hazeh - This ‘gal’
is witness” to the accord fashioned between us. The Arizal says that the
plague that was killing talmidim of Rabi Akiva during Sefirah
ceased because Lag Ba’omer is a realization of the pile that separated
Lovon and Yaakov.

At first look, it appears
that the inference is that the words “Lag” and “gal” are formed from
the same Hebrew letters, gimmel and lamid, and it is merely a
clever play on the word. However, upon deeper examination, there is a hidden
secret in the words of the Arizal as there are in all his teachings.

The Medrash Tanchumah
at the end of ParshasVayeitzei says that the “gal”
referred to is also the “kir” that prevented Bilam’s donkey from
approaching the Bnei Yisroel in a bid to curse them on behalf of Balak,
the king of Moav. The “gal” that separated Yaakov and Lovon would also
create the division between the Jewish people and the depraved nations who
sought their destruction.

It is interesting that
meforshim use various approaches to connect the 24,000 talmidim of
Rabi Akiva who perished and the 24,000 people who died after they sinned with
the daughters of Moav when Bilam wasn’t able to curse the Jewish people.

Apparently, there is more
to the “gal” than meets the eye.

We read at the end of ParshasAcharei Mos about the admonitions against immoral acts and lifestyles
that were prevalent in the land of Canaan. The pesukim (18:28-30) warn
that if the Jewish people adopt the ways of tumah, the land will expel
them, because whoever engages in immorality will be struck down.

Those pesukim are
immediately followed by the opening pesukim of ParshasKedoshim
(19:1-2): “Tell the Bnei Yisroel that they must be holy, because I, Hashem,
your G-d, am holy.” Rashi (ibid.) states that the way to be holy is
by being isolated from acts of immorality and sin. The Toras Kohanim
(ibid.) states that Parshas Kedoshim contains “rov gufei Torah,”
the majority of the body of the Torah. If you look through the parsha,
you conclude that most of the laws that are included there relate to decency,
to acting properly with each other, to not hating other people, and to love thy
brother like thyself.

TheTorah is giving
us a manual for how to create that “gal,” the holy pile that can serve
as a barrier. We must firmly establish a “gal” to separate ourselves
from the tumah of the nations around us. The “gal” is what
protects us and ensures our salvation in times of danger and disease.

“Gal” represents the
separation between kedushah and tumah. To the degree to which the
Bnei Yisroel are kedoshim, cleaving to the mitzvos
contained in this week’s parshiyos and separating themselves from arayos
and tumah, they benefit from the “gal” to separate them from mageifos.

That same “gal” that
separated our forefather Yaakov and the shevotim from Lovon, keeping
them safe; the same “gal” that turned back Bilam and allowed Pinchos to
rise from among his people and stem the plague; the same “gal” that
caused the talmidim of Rabi Akiva to stop dying, that “gal” is
available for us on Lag Ba’omer and all year round.

If we separate ourselves
from the Lovons of our day, and the Bilams, and the daughters of Moav, and we
respect each other and act charitably and with fine character, we strengthen
that eternal “gal” and ensure our security.

As the golus
continues and our situation becomes more precarious, and as enemies surround us
from within and without, we must not weaken in our devotion to the gufei
Torah of ParshasKedoshim. Neo-Orthodox and secularists seek
to bring tumah into our camp. The prevalent culture war that would have
been unthinkable just years ago assaults our senses of modesty and morality.
Once again, there is a flood of impurity challenging our “gal.”

If we stamp out abuse, if
we stamp out hatred, if we stamp out immorality from our camp, we help
ourselves and others. Every company and every organization needs a mission
statement to which it must adhere or it loses relevance and vibrancy. Our
people, too, need a mission statement. Ours is Kedoshim Tihiyu.

In ParshasKedoshim,
the Torah commands, “Ve’ohavta lerei’acha kamocha.” We are to love our
fellow as much as we love ourselves. This is definitely connected to the Chazal
that gufei Torah are included in this parsha. Displaying love for
each other is a cardinal obligation and an indication of where we are holding
as Jews. If we are full of love for each other, then our guf is Torahdik.
If we are hateful and spiteful to each other, then we are not Torahdik.

This is not simply
allegory. It is the essence of the parsha. Chazal teach that ParshasKedoshim was said behakheil, at a gathering of all the Jewish people.
The Sefas Emes explains that in order for Klal Yisroel to
effectively observe the Torah and mitzvos, it has to be done as part of
the “klal,” the community. In order to achieve the appellation “kadosh,”
we have to be part of the larger group, and not merely individuals, set apart
from everyone else.

When we are suffused with
love for each other, we can be part of the klal and become kedoshim.
If we are kedoshim, then we are able to battle the kochos of tumah
that confront us and the eternal “gal” is there to separate us from
them. But if we do not achieve kedushah and are lacking in the
components that bring us to that level of observance, then there is not enough
of a difference between us and the ever-present threatening tumah.

Thus, perhaps we can say
when Rabi Akiva saw that his talmidim were falling, he realized that
although they zealously observed the Torah and mitzvos, they were
deficient in the way they treated each other. There wasn’t enough respect in
their relationships. Rabi Akiva saw the plague as an indication they were
lacking in kedushah. Thus, he formulated his historic missive of “Ve’ohavata
lerei’acha kamocha, zeh klal gadol baTorah.” The mitzvah of loving
each other is a major tenet of the Torah.

In order for the “gal”
to separate his talmidim from the kochos of tumah, they
had to be kedoshim. Although they were strict shomrei Torah umitzvos,
since they were lacking in respect for each other, they were apparently lacking
in the mitzvah of “Ve’ohavata lerei’acha kamocha” and weren’t
sufficiently part of a klal, which is a necessary component of being a kadosh.
He admonished them, and they rectified their conduct and became kedoshim
once again. On Lag Ba’omer, the “gal” separated them from the kochos
of tumah and the plague came to a halt.

Torah uplifts, and those
who learnTorah together become uplifted together. Limud haTorah
should create an atmosphere and environment of refinement and aidelkeit.
If there was disrespect, their Torah wasn’t affecting them the way it should
have. If there was no “gal” protecting them from the kochos hatumah,
something about them was lacking. If it wasn’t the mitzvos bein adam laMakom,
then it was those that deal with their fellow man.

A few short years after the
Alter of Slabodka succeeded in realizing his dream of transplanting his yeshiva
to the Holy Land, it faced its greatest challenge. In 1929, local Arabs
embarked on a horrific killing spree, descending in bloodthirsty hordes on the
Chevron Jewish community where the yeshiva was located. Many bnei
Torah lost their lives that day.

A story emerged from amidst
the massacre, a spark of glory from an ocean of blood. In the final moments of
his life, one of the bnei Torah showed just how deeply the teachings of
Slabodka had affected him, how profound was the mark of mussar on his
pure soul, and how the Torah itself had imprinted its light on him. He lay
there after being beaten, blood flowing from his many wounds. With his final
breaths, he reached for a friend who lay nearby, shaken for sure, but not
bleeding.

The footsteps of the
ferocious murderers pounded around them as the wolves sought more sheep.

“Quick!” the first bochur,
faltering and weakening with each moment, gasped, “come close.” He reached for
the second bochur and pulled him near. The bochur directed the
rushing flow of blood onto his friend, covering him in blood.

“Now, when they come back,
they will think that you are dead as well and they won’t finish the job. Maybe
you will be spared.”

His job complete, the first
talmid died, his holy soul ascending to Heaven. Hashem yikom domov. The
second talmid, covered in blood, lay there, ignored by the Arabs. He
eventually survived to tell the tale.

It is a story not just
about selflessness, not just about yishuv hada’as, but about what Torah
does, about what a yeshiva does, about how it creates an island where
the inhabitants are bound, heart and soul, until their final breath.

You don’t have to be a
prophet or as great as Rabi Akiva to sense that there is a lack of respect
between Jews today. Instead of loving each other, we despise those with whom we
disagree. We ignore them, we make believe they don’t exist, and we treat them
with disrespect. If we would love each other, we would care about each other,
and if we do disagree, we can do so with love. If we need to admonish each
other, we can do so with love, not hate, with sweetness, not bitterness.

As we engage in the
self-improvement process of the yemei sefirah, we must study these parshiyos
carefully and turn up the love.

You don’t have to be a
prophet or as great as Rabi Akiva to sense that the kochos hatumah are
strengthening and the world is sinking to terribly low levels.

You don’t have to be a
prophet to see that the nations of the world are mobilizing against us. Iran is
closer than ever to obtaining nuclear power, which they swear to use against
Israel. They are getting there with the approbation of the Western world.
Hezbollah has more rockets than ever positioned against Israel, and at any
given moment they can fire thousands of rockets at the heart of Israel.
Anti-Semites are gaining power across Europe and Jews there are in a more
fragile condition than at any time since the Holocaust.

We have to resurrect that “gal”
to separate us from the strengthening kochos hatumah. We can only
accomplish that by doing everything in our power to become kedoshim once
again.

Each of us can celebrate Lag
Ba’omer by doing our part to remain distinct, pure and elevated. We can
strengthen ourselves, as well as our yeshivos and shuls, which
are bulwarks against the flow of impurity.

One Friday night,
Vizhnitzer chassidim in Bnei Brak were dancing with their rebbe,
Rav Moshe Hager, singing the words “Ranenu tzaddikim baHashem.” Rav
Shimshon Pincus passed by and joined the spirited dancing.

Later, one of Rav
Shimshon’s talmidim wondered why he, acard-carrying Litvak,
had joined the chassidishe dance. Rav Shimshon explained, “It’s true
that it’s not my chassidus and it’s not my rebbe, but at the
core, even if it is not our minhag, it’s a slice of kedushah. They
are rejoicing in Shabbos, in a tzaddik, in being together. The
only way to survive is through connecting to kedushah, in all its
forms.”

We can survive and grow
stronger if we find ways to join the dance around us. It might not be our shul,
our chassidus, our yeshiva or our friend, but we have to find
ways to connect with different sources of kedushah to strengthen
ourselves and that “gal.”

We can then feel the joy of
being kedoshim together, apart from the tumah, protected by the “gal,”
filling our souls as we join hands to follow Rabi Akiva’s timeless precepts and
sing his wonderful words.